


Lapsang Souchong

by cryptid98



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Brief Mention of Sokka/Suki, Friendship, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:55:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24556555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptid98/pseuds/cryptid98
Summary: It's late, much too late to have another cup of tea, but Zuko has a feeling that sleep will evade him tonight."Sure. But expect me to be a harsh judge, Avatar. Nobody can make a cup of tea quite like my uncle."
Relationships: Aang & Zuko (Avatar), The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 290





	Lapsang Souchong

**Author's Note:**

> hi! i wrote a (hopefully first of many) ATLA fanfic combining my love of tea with my love for this show. lapsang souchong is a real tea, but it's not for the faint of heart. it's one of my favorites and i hope you can try it sometime.  
> please leave a kudos and a comment if you liked it. i just want zuko to be happy. ;_;
> 
> rated T due to mentions of zuko's trauma.

It's quiet now, a comfortable stillness settling in the air. The soft flicker of lanterns casts a yellow hue across the room, a halo of shadows dancing on the ceiling. Zuko can faintly hear the distinct buzz of cicadas outside, a reminder that summer had finally covered the country in its warm, humid heat. For once, the heat didn't disturb him. For once, Zuko found comfort in the way the heat hung in the air, gentle and nothing like the fierce blazes of fire that once threatened to burn the nation to the ground.

Everyone else had long retired to bed. A night of debauchery and laughter in Aang’s apartment had tuckered everyone out. Occasionally he can hear the rhythmic snoring of Sokka from another room, no doubt sprawled across Suki in a tangle of limbs. The thought brings a slight smile to Zuko's face. Toph had parted with her usual crude remarks, making sure to get a good punch on Zuko's shoulder before she left.

Katara was the first to leave in a half-asleep daze, but not before wishing everyone goodnight. Zuko remembers a time when Katara wouldn't even look at him without anger in her expression, twisting her face into something he couldn't bear to look at. But now, she smiles at him as she wishes him goodnight. Her expression is as warm as the summer heat- as warm as ocean waters lapping at the shore in moonlight. Zuko wonders if such a simple expression is wasted on him, if he is worth as much as a friendly parting gesture. Her words replay in his mind. He's heard it so many times now - how many nights has it been? - "Goodnight, Zuko. I'll see you tomorrow."

His racing thoughts are interrupted by the sound of bare feet against hardwood and porcelain cups rattling against metal. Aang has a grin shining ear to ear as he clumsily sets a tea tray on the table.

"Up for one more round? I think I'm finally getting the hang of what your uncle showed me." Aang's voice is just above a whisper but it somehow still carries its usual vibrancy. Zuko mulls over the boy's proposition as Aang begins to gingerly spread everything out. It's late, much too late to have another cup of tea, but Zuko has a feeling that sleep will evade him tonight.

"Sure. But expect me to be a harsh judge, Avatar. Nobody can make a cup of tea quite like my uncle."

Aang quirks an eyebrow at Zuko's remark, fighting a bellowing laugh from rising up. "You're on. Only the best cup of tea should be served to the fire lord, after all." Aang matches Zuko's sarcasm in a way that was becoming routine between the two, a softened version of the rivalry they once shared.

Zuko has seen a pot of tea prepared a thousand times. He still can't quite get it perfect himself, no matter how many times he tries to shadow his uncle. Too much leaf. Not enough leaf. Water too hot for green tea, too cold for herbals. How could such a simple drink be so complicated? He runs through all the steps mentally as he watches Aang scoop a hefty amount of dark brown leaves from a clay jar and pour them into the pot.

Aang screws the jar shut tightly, setting it aside. "Last time I did this, Iroh told me it tasted like hot leaf water. I looked at him like he was crazy," Aang remarks, wrapping his hands around the tea pot. Zuko laughs at that, his shoulders bouncing.

"Yeah, I've heard that one before. He tells me that every time I try to make tea." Aang smiles at the sound of Zuko's laughter, a rare occurrence that Aang only hopes will happen more often. The pot begins to steam in Aang's hands, the sound of vigorous bubbling from within filling the room. Aang glances up at Zuko briefly, almost as if he’s asking how his firebending technique is. Almost as if he’s unsure. He returns his gaze to the teapot, and Zuko can only think how mature Aang looks for a boy his age. If Zuko thinks about it too hard, looks a little too long at any of his friends, all he can think about is how they look less like kids than they did only months ago. Zuko makes a habit to not look in any mirrors for any longer than he must.

“I like your uncle a lot. I think,” Aang pauses, removing his hands from the teapot. “I think he really cares about you.” It’s not anything that Aang hasn’t told him before, but the comment catches Zuko off guard. Zuko feels a lump forming in his throat, but he chokes it down and focuses on watching Aang lift the teapot from the table. “I know,” Zuko replies, voice hoarse.

Zuko’s hands gather in the soft velvet of his casual robes, twisting the fabric violently. Things are different now, he reminds himself. Zuko isn’t the boy he once was. He’s not the boy who turned his back on his uncle, the one family member who truly cared about him. He’s not that boy anymore. _I’m not that boy anymore._ He repeats it like a mantra in his mind until his hands relax, until his breath comes out a little easier.

If Aang senses Zuko’s uneasiness (and Zuko swears he does, the way he pauses before tipping the tea pot – small, scarred hands hesitating), he doesn’t say anything. Carefully, the amber liquid pours from the pot into glistening cups, lantern fire creating golden ripples that skate across the surface. The smell of smoke hits Zuko’s nostrils, and it’s a stark contrast against the pleasant steam rising from the cups. There’s something strangely nostalgic about it.

“I think I got it right. You’ll have to tell me what you think, though.” Aang sets the pot down and delicately pushes a teacup across the table. The lantern fire flickers in his eyes, wide with expectation.

“Thank you,” Zuko says quietly, reaching forward to grab the teacup. He can see his reflection in the cup, distorted and watery. The scent of smoke is stronger now- but it’s gentle, so very gentle. Zuko was used to smoke being harsh. It’s so thick it blots out the sun and consumes everything it touches. But now, it’s gently wrapping around Zuko’s features, steam rolling off and disappearing into the atmosphere.

Zuko brings the cup to his lips, cautiously sipping the liquor. It hits his tongue and Zuko feels something ignite within him. _Heat, smoke, wood, spice… I’ve had this before._ It rolls down his throat, but the name escapes him, at the tip of his tongue. It tastes like days spent at the beach, blackened sand falling through his hands. It tastes like stormy nights at sea, traversing into an endless sky. It tastes like autumn leaves falling in the wind.

“It’s lapsang souchong. Your uncle told me about it,” Aang spoke, taking a sip from his own cup and closing his eyes. “He told me it used to be your favorite.”

It hits Zuko all at once. Hot tears begin streaming down his cheeks, falling quietly into his cup. Zuko’s shoulders slump forward. Shakily, he sets the cup down, bringing his hands up to his face. Silently, slowly, his body crumples in on itself. He’s sobbing now, but he can’t muster more than weak whines from the back of his throat. _I just saw uncle today, so why am I crying? He’s here now, he’s here now…_

Aang is here now too. Zuko can’t bring himself to look at Aang as he cries. Aang is here, and he’s Zuko’s friend. Aang shines as bright as the sun, an ethereal being that brings light to the world. Despite that, despite everything, despite the cruelness of the world behind them, Aang is here serving him a cup of tea. A gesture of friendship. A gesture of the bond between them now. It’s a gesture as warm as the summer sun.

Zuko wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his robe. The joy he feels comes out as a weak laugh, but it’s there, he’s laughing and he’s smiling and he’s sharing a cup of tea with his friend.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.”


End file.
